


I am short of breath standing next to you

by icanthelpbut_love_you



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Colour Symbolism, Dancing, Fluff, Kissing, M/M, Outrageous Flirting, POV Alec Lightwood, Stargazing, Weddings, flower symbolism, just a whole lot of symbolism alright, wedding vows
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-04
Updated: 2019-05-04
Packaged: 2020-02-18 13:55:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18700951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icanthelpbut_love_you/pseuds/icanthelpbut_love_you
Summary: “I- I can’t breathe.”He can hear the awe in his own voice, barely above a whisper, and he’s struck once more by how utterlydifferentthis is from last time. This time, Jace can snort and elbow him in the side and call him a sap, all light-hearted sarcasm and none of the poorly concealed worry. This time, he can let his gaze linger, eagerly drinking in the sight of his fiancé walking towards him. This time, he can feel the pure joy he’s come to associate with Magnus where it sits bright and steady and undeniable in the marrow of his bones.Nothing’s the same, except the way Magnus takes his breath away.When the dust settles, Alec and Magnus finally get to have their fairytale ending.





	I am short of breath standing next to you

**Author's Note:**

> Is this at least twelve self-indulgent headcanons in a trench coat masquerading as a fic? It absolutely is. I have no regrets.  
> This probably doesn’t tie in with any of the promos (because I refuse to watch them before the ep actually comes out lol), but it's the wedding these two deserve ok. 
> 
> Title is from ‘Atlas: Heart’ by Sleeping at Last

Alec’s eyes are already scanning as he steps through the portal, searching for a glimpse of his fiancé in the crowd of guests surrounding him – an amalgamation of every possible downworld denizen imaginable, mingling so-far harmoniously. Alec had been dubious that they could all play nicely together, but Magnus had assured him that the thrill of securing an invite to the wedding of the High Warlock of Brooklyn and the Head of the New York Institute – the event of the century he had called it, much to Alec’s chagrin – would be enough to keep everyone on their best behaviour. Apparently he was right. As usual.

Speaking of Magnus, it’s clear he hasn’t yet arrived. Not that Alec really expected him to have; he’s most likely still getting ready, putting the finishing touches to an outfit that will undoubtedly make Alec weak in the knees. Admittedly, he’s cutting it a little fine, but Alec can’t help being endeared by Magnus’ inability to resist a dramatic entrance and shakes his head even as hopeless adoration courses through him. It’s unbelievable how Magnus’ little habits, things that would utterly incense Alec coming from anyone else, only make him fall further in love.

That being said, they will be having words if Magnus shows up late to their wedding of all things, Alec’s fondness for his quirks be damned.

As the portal shuts behind him with a flourish of green sparks, Alec muses that it’s been quite a while since he has had to use a portal conjured by anyone other than Magnus (perks of being engaged to a warlock). And honestly, it was surprisingly unpleasant.

Without realising it, he’s grown used to the sensation of Magnus’ magic, an extension of the man himself, and the way it creeps through his veins in a pleasant buzz that never fails to make him shiver. Don’t get him wrong, the warlock who had offered to make the portal from the institute for him – one of the many, many friends of Magnus’ that Alec has been meeting one after another in rapid succession for the past few hours – had been plenty good-natured and the portal itself conjured expertly. But the familiar sound of the portal opening and the muscle memory of stepping through as he’s done countless time before was jarring when paired with completely foreign magic, which had felt disconcertingly like it was sizing him up, prodding at him inquisitively with a few static shocks of lime-green energy. Knowing how intensely protective some of Magnus’ friends are, he wouldn’t be surprised if that was exactly what it was doing.

Now he’s given up searching for his fiancé in the crowd, Alec allows himself to stop and take in the sight before him. The dense surrounding forest opens up into a circular glade, grass soft and vibrant green beneath his feet and branches reaching endlessly up until the canopy opens to reveal the clear pre-evening sky. It’s a place they’ve visited before, on one of their early dates and many times since. They’d happened on upon it completely by accident, Magnus evidently much more nervous than he’d seemed on the surface based on the way he’d portalled them into a forest in the middle of nowhere several kilometres from the town he’d been aiming for.

Magnus had recovered quickly though, declaring with great enthusiasm that the glade was simply perfect for stargazing. So that was what they’d done. Alec vividly remembers lying with his head pillowed on Magnus’ shoulder as Magnus pressed close to murmur the names of constellations in his ear. As much as he’d tried to concentrate, Alec couldn’t help but be transfixed by Magnus’ face as he’d pointed out each star, eyes awash with unbridled excitement and the glitter brushed across his cheekbones shimmering in the starlight, every bit as captivating as the shining galaxies and nebulae spilling across the inky sky.

Leaning up to steal soft kisses every time Magnus stopped speaking to so much as take a breath, Alec had successfully coaxed Magnus down to join him in his distraction until all thoughts of stargazing were abandoned in favour of making out lazily on the grass.

The glade holds a special place in Alec’s heart. Not just because of the memory of the hours they’d spent kissing and talking and revelling in each other’s presence, but because it was the first time Alec can remember feeling like he could just _be_ , existing for once fully in the moment wrapped in Magnus’ arms and idly playing with his fingers as they looked up at the stars. It was the first time he’d felt the beginnings of something _more_ , far too early to be love but maybe the beginning of it, the possibility of it, and the first time (but by no means the last) that Alec wondered breathlessly how this was something he was allowed to have, these moments imbued with magic he’d never believed could exist outside of myths and epics, let alone in his own life.

And, based on the way Magnus had lit up when Alec suggested the clearing as a potential wedding location, knowing exactly where Alec was talking about with no need for elaboration and agreeing immediately, Alec thinks that it might mean something similar to Magnus too.

He makes his way around the rows of chairs lined up across the glade, gradually filling as guests find seats in preparation for the formalities beginning, sitting scattered throughout the rows in haphazard clumps in the absence of an official seating plan. Far too much work when there’s so many complex relationships between guests – particularly the warlocks, who are liable to suddenly unearth decades-old grudges when the fancy strikes. Far easier to let everyone sort it out themselves and embrace the controlled chaos that brings.

Another thing notably lacking is any pathway down the middle of the chairs, he and Magnus having decided to forego either of them walking down the aisle. Entirely predictably, Alec had found himself uncomfortable with the idea of that much attention focused on him alone, and Magnus for his part had been unable to hide his glee upon pointing out that he’s had his turn already.

“Besides,” he’d said conspiratorially, “Given our track record I doubt I’d make it past halfway.”

Alec had only laughed. Between Magnus slyly delegating the more mundane parts of wedding planning, citing that Alec was after all far better suited to the task given his greater experience, and Izzy snarking that she hopes this time there’ll be no devastatingly attractive men bursting through the doors halfway through, Alec is resigned to the reality that he’ll never live down his ill-advised almost-marriage to Lydia.

So, reaching the front row of chairs, Alec lingers, waiting for Magnus so they can step up to the altar together. Altar is probably too rigid a term, although Alec doesn’t exactly have a better one in his limited wedding-related vocabulary; arbour maybe, but even that doesn’t really do it justice. He and Magnus had supposedly agreed on simple set-up for decor, but Alec has a sneaking suspicion that was mostly to placate him at the time.

This is definitely not simple. But Alec has to admit it’s absolutely stunning. The altar is the statement piece of the entire clearing, set a few feet in front of the trees that border it. Branches and vines wind their way up around the trellis as though it grew from the very ground itself – and with the number of warlocks and faeries in attendance, for all Alec knows it might have – twisting together in knots that weave upwards in a swooping arch before reaching back out to join the canopy. The dark earth tones of the branches and rich forest green leaves fanning out around them are offset by clusters of vibrant sunflowers. They spiral up the sides, just a few lower down, almost obscured by the foliage arranged carefully around them, and increase in number upwards until the they cover the curve of the arch in an explosion of warm saffron-yellow. Clusters of tiny orange flowers peek out between them, making the darker amber at the centre of the petals pop.

They perfectly match the golden embroidery swirling across Alec’s tie, the focal point of his otherwise understated blue suit, as well as the boutonniere firmly pinned to Alec’s lapel – a single small sunflower nestled between a few glossy, curling leaves. He’d been more than a little sceptical initially; sunflowers, from his limited understanding, are a little loud and a lot cliché. However, when he’d voiced his concerns, Magnus had simply taken out his phone and offered it wordlessly, having evidently preloaded a page in anticipation of Alec’s resistance. Upon reading the words written there describing the flower’s meaning – devotion, happiness, adoration, longevity – Alec’s protests had died in his throat. Magnus had smugly patted his cheek before reclaiming his phone and continuing their previous conversation without so much as a hesitation, and that had been that.

He watches now as Izzy fusses over the positioning of a few blooms that must have gradually worked their way loose, playfully scolding Jace for jostling another when he tries to help and threatening him with some incredibly creative uses of a seraph blade if he so much as looks at any of the other decorations. Maybe not so playful then. Alec might have to keep an eye on that.

To his credit, and contrary to popular opinion, Jace must have some level of self-preservation instinct after all because he raises his hand in surrender and steps over to join Alec. He looks almost tentative.

“Congrats man.”

Alec inclines his head in acknowledgement, smiling softly as Jace bumps their shoulders together. Somethings never change, including Jace’s total lack of emotional coherence.

“You know I’m proud of you, right?” Jace continues and Alec looks up so fast he’s pretty sure he might have given himself whiplash, “I don’t say it enough but if anyone deserves some damn happiness it’s you.”

“A few months ago I was convinced I was never going to feel anything through our bond other than fear,” he says, serious in a way Alec rarely sees him, “It got to the point where I barely noticed it anymore because it was so constant, lurking just below the surface no matter what else was going on at the time, like you were barely holding it down by sheer force of will or something.”

Jace trails off, and Alec swears that he almost sounds choked up.

“I could see it was eating at you but I had no idea how to even _try_ to help, and the worst part of it was that there were just these… moments where I could physically feel you collapsing in on yourself.”

He stops for a second, as though to compose himself, then seems to shake it off.

“And now you’re this beacon of ridiculous joy,” he laughs and shoves Alec good-naturedly, “Seriously, I got stuck on an overnight stake-out the other day and even then I couldn’t stop grinning the entire time because it was literally rolling off you. I could probably cruise through on your second-hand happiness alone for a few months at this point.”

Alec’s floored, completely speechless and unexpectedly touched as he listens to Jace use up what must be his emotional maturity quota for at least the next month. Whatever it is, it runs out then because Jace’s voice turns sly.

“You know, between our bond and some of your drunk ramblings I have all the material I need for a killer best man speech tonight.”

Alec doesn’t doubt that. In fact, between them Jace and Izzy probably have enough of Alec’s intoxicated text messages screenshotted to back up just about anything they decide to share. With that the moment’s well and truly dead, but the sincerity of Jace’s words still echo in the air so Alec pulls him into a one-armed hug before he hurts himself with any more over-compensatory macho posturing. As he said, some things never change.

It’s beyond amazing the difference it makes when everyone at your wedding is actually happy you’re getting married. Last time, the mood was so sombre anyone would have thought he’d invited them to a funeral. And honestly, if he’d gone through with it he might as well have. But now everyone is laughing and chatting, and part of him still can’t believe he can have this all with Magnus, a man who’s more than anything he could have come up with in his wildest of daydreams.

There’s the sharp whoosh and snap followed by the sound of footsteps crunching softly on the forest floor behind them and Jace nudges him, unnecessarily, like Alec can’t identify the sound of a portal and that familiar residue of magical energy in his sleep, like he hasn’t been finely attuned to every whisper of noise since he set foot into the clearing, and Alec turns and –

Oh. There he is.

Alec’s heart skips painfully and he has to stifle the urge to shift and tug at his collar, feeling abruptly like there’s something stealing the oxygen from around him before it can reach his lungs.

“I- I can’t breathe.”

He can hear the awe in his own voice, barely above a whisper, and he’s struck once more by how utterly _different_ this is from last time. This time, Jace can snort and elbow him in the side and call him a sap, all light-hearted sarcasm and none of the poorly concealed worry. This time, he can let his gaze linger, eagerly drinking in the sight of his fiancé walking towards him. This time, he can feel the pure joy he’s come to associate with Magnus where it sits bright and steady and undeniable in the marrow of his bones.

Nothing’s the same, except the way Magnus takes his breath away.

He’s absolutely stunning. Sure, Alec had anticipated that but… _wow_. Magnus is dressed in the same blue suit and white shirt that Alec himself is wearing, complete with an identical boutonniere. But Magnus’ jacket is embellished with intricate gold filigree, swirling across the labels and flowing down his torso and over his arms in a way that makes it all the more difficult as Alec attempts to draw breath. It’s the exact same patterning as on Alec’s own tie and it makes moisture prick behind his eyes as he swallows thickly.

He needs to have a serious talk with Izzy about meddling. And boundaries, for that matter. The one tradition Magnus had insisted on (in character in a way that Alec should not have found anywhere as endearing as he did) was that they not see each other’s outfits until tonight, so Izzy had gone shopping separately with each of them to make sure they were ‘coordinated’. Naively, Alec had assumed that meant she was there to make sure… actually he hadn’t really asked considering even the basics of suit shopping were already deeply overwhelming for all they eluded him, but maybe to make sure the colours didn’t clash too badly?

He should have realised she’d use the opportunity to scheme, especially when she’d so vehemently insisted on this specific design for his tie. Briefly, he wonders what it would be like to have siblings that aren’t overly invested in his love life. But given Magnus’ reaction, eyes widening as he scans Alec, tears collecting in the corners and making them shine, he can’t bring himself to be even slightly annoyed at his sister’s deviousness. Not when the end result is this: a clear statement to everyone who sees them. Blue and gold, warlock and shadowhunter, beautifully and irreversibly intertwined. Two parts of a perfectly complementary pair.

They’re close enough that Alec can see the same shade from Magnus’ jacket picked out with careful precision in his makeup, a dusting of gold shimmering in the inner fold of his eyes. Everything about this man is perfect-stunning-incredible and automatically, Alec leans in to place a kiss on Magnus’ lips. Only Magnus shifts at the last minute, in a way that can’t be anything but deliberate. The kiss lands on his cheek and Alec pouts. Magnus tuts admonishingly.

“Kissing the groom before the wedding, Alexander? Surely you know that’s not allowed.”

Magnus almost manages to pull off a scandalised tone as he says it, but his eyes sparkle with mirth and there’s an infuriatingly coy smirk on his lips. Infuriating because it takes all Alec’s willpower not to kiss it off him and Magnus _knows_ that. And there’s that ever-present electricity between them, the constant flirting and banter that has come so easily since the very beginning.

Giving an exaggerated roll of his eyes, Alec takes Magnus’ hand in his own instead, brushing his lips over Magnus’ knuckles. It’s the next closest thing he can get to actually kissing Magnus, to allowing the adoration bubbling up inside him an outlet. And if it makes Magnus’ cheeks darken with a slight flush, throat bobbing in a way that never fails to capture Alec’s attention and smirk fading as he looks like Alec has just shaken his entire world… well, Alec’s not above a little playful revenge.

With Magnus’ hand in his, Alec notices the distinct lack of rings. It makes him smile fondly, remembering the struggle it had been getting Magnus to relinquish the Lightwood ring long enough for them to actually use it in the ceremony. It had taken more than a little coaxing, whispers that after today he won’t ever have to take it off again, to convince him. And though Alec knows it’s mostly for show – teasing Alec is quite possibly Magnus’ favourite pastime – he could also see the hint of earnestness obscured by Magnus’ over the top whining. Magnus would never come out and say that he doesn’t want to give up the physical reminder that they’re _getting married_ – even for a few hours – when it’s still all so surreal. He doesn’t have to say it. God knows Alec can barely believe it himself, had struggled to overcome his own reluctance to remove the ring Magnus gave him, keeps thinking that it must be an incredibly vivid dream conjured by his subconscious to taunt him because no way, his life can not be this perfect.

But apparently, it can. Because, though admittedly it has had a lot of practice, his subconscious could never so accurately reproduce the faint scent of sandalwood that lingers around Magnus or the exact feel of his hand clasped in Alec’s or the gentle familiar buzz of magic that sings just below his skin.

“By the angel – Alec!”

He starts at Izzy’s voice, exasperated and very clearly concealing laughter. Willing down a blush at the realisation he must have just been staring into Magnus’ eyes, completely oblivious to her saying his name, he manages to turn away long enough to look at her sheepishly. The sarcastic flourish when she waves expectantly towards the altar ignites a deeply-programmed childish urge to respond by flashing her a crude gesture (courtesy of growing up with Jace). But his hands still clasp Magnus’ and when he looks back at his fiancé, looks at the utter joy practically radiating off him, he completely loses that train of thought.

Feeling Magnus’ restlessness – and isn’t that a concept, to know Magnus well enough that he can see his emotions so plainly – Alec almost expects it when Magnus raises his free hand and flicks it absently, cobalt blue sparks shooting mesmerizingly from his fingertips, dancing and glowing in the space between them. Gradually they fade, but rather than dispersing Alec feels as though they’ve simply taken up residence somewhere in his chest instead, warming him to the core. And it’s so _Magnus_ , the way he both sheds nervous energy and tries to cover up the nerves themselves with these little bursts of raw magic. God the sheer power that implies, that Magnus has so much magic roiling in his veins, so responsive to his emotions, that he has to burn off the excess at times like this, it… it does things to Alec that are less than ideal for a formal (and distinctly public) event.

He forces himself once more to draw his eyes away from Magnus before he becomes side-tracked yet again. Instead, he casts his gaze outwards, searching to see what this particular spark of magic has manifested as. It’s his turn to stare with wide eyes this time as he takes in the sight around them, jaw slackening in awe. Night has started to fall in the space between one breath and another while he’s been captivated by Magnus, the last rays filtering through the branches and setting the grove ablaze with golden light and soft shadows. The first stars glint above them. Briefly Alec thinks that somehow Magnus has brought those stars down to meet them, before he realises how ridiculous that is (although maybe not, given Magnus’ sheer strength and his penchant for outrageous romantic gestures). At least the audible gasps from the people around them mean he’s actually seeing this and isn’t so deliriously happy that he’s become starry-eyed.

Tiny points of light fill the canopy above them, weaving through the branches, wrapping whimsically around the altar and painting the sunflowers with a flickering glow that makes their petals dance like tongues of flame, and illuminating the defined angles of Magnus’ face. Alec’s not sure when his gaze wandered back to his fiancé. But now he’s powerless again, transfixed by the way the lights strike the gold of Magnus’ eyeshadow and catch the soft happiness gleaming in his eyes.

It’s one of the more productive results of Magnus’ errant magic, he has to admit.

Taking a steadying breath, Alec steps forward to stand on shaky legs under the trellis with Magnus by his side, hand still clasped tightly in his own. At some point Raphael and Catarina have moved to take their places behind Magnus, the former valiantly mustering his trademark bored expression when he sees Alec watching him, as though Alec hadn’t just caught him exchanging a proud look with Catarina. He senses more than sees Izzy and Jace at his own back, feels Izzy lean closer to him.

“At least I didn’t have to invite Magnus this time,” she whispers, voice dancing with mischief, and he glances sideways to fix her with a deadpan look.

“If you had to invite one of the grooms to the wedding, I think we’d have bigger problems on our hands,” he snarks back under his breath and hears Magnus huff a laugh. Trust Izzy not to miss an opportunity to poke fun, even as he’s seconds from getting married. He can feel himself relax a little though, some of the nervous tension draining at the familiarity of their banter, and is hit by sudden gratefulness towards her. Of course it’s deliberate – his sister knows his tendency to overthink better than just about anyone with the exception of Magnus – of course she notices that he’s overwhelmed before he realises it himself and immediately does her best to put him at ease.

Brother Zachariah steps forwards and the last of the chatter from the crowd seated in front of them dies down.

“We are gathered here to witness the union of Magnus Bane and Alexander Lightwood,” his voice projects into Alec’s head, “When they are ready, Alec and Magnus will exchange the vows they have chosen to prepare.”

There’s a ripple of interest through the rows of seats. Vows generally aren’t something that shadowhunters do at weddings; between the Wedded Union rune and exchanging tokens (often rings but not always), any gestures beyond that are considered excessive. But Alec is well beyond worrying about the Clave’s pompous dismissal of emotion. He’s getting married to the love of his life; at this point not even a demonic invasion would be enough to stop him from giving Magnus all the beautiful promises he deserves. Brother Zachariah inclines his head in invitation, and Alec grasps Magnus’ other hand to turn them so they’re facing each other, losing himself in Magnus’ eyes.

“Magnus,” he starts.

“Alexander,” Magnus responds, matching Alec’s sincere tone teasingly. Alec is momentarily thrown, before shaking his head and grinning helplessly as Magnus arches a brow, as if to ask what he’s waiting for. Composing himself, he tries again.

“Magnus I’m – I’m not a smooth talker, you know that. Not like you are. For as long as I’ve known you, you’ve always had this ability to… the way you can these paint vivid pictures and craft entire worlds from your words alone is practically an art form.”

“That’s not something I can do. Especially when I’m around you.”

He pauses to chuckle breathlessly, overtaken by _nostalgia_.

“When we first met I wasn’t… I could barely string together two words if you got too close. I like to think I’ve got a bit better since then –”

Jace’s incredulous scoff prompts soft exhales of laughter from the seated guests and yeah, that’s probably fair, but Alec would appreciate it if calling out his inability to function around his fiancé could wait until after he manages to stumble through his vows. He huffs and turns to level an unimpressed look at his parabatai (who is a picture of innocence) before turning back towards Magnus.

“What I’m trying to say is I’m not great with words, but I’m going to try now because there’s some things I need to say that it’s really important to me that you hear, because it’s vital you understand how much you mean to me.” The words tumble out in a rush, and he can’t quite bring himself to meet Magnus’ intense gaze, knows there’s no way he’ll get a single sentence out if he does.

“I’m not sure how familiar you are with shadowhunter mythology, but there’s this old proverb that shadowhunters have a single great love, that we love one person with unmatched intensity for our entire lives.”

From the way Magnus’ expression twists into one of mute astonishment, it is in fact not something he’s familiar with at all.

“I never believed it, honestly it… it wasn’t something I could afford to believe, so I convinced myself it was nothing but a…” he trails off and shrugs abortively, hands flexing around Magnus’ in an echo of the way they’d normally be gesticulating wildly as he searches for the right words, “… story? A baseless wives-tale, I guess, something I could easily dismiss.”

“Then I met you,” he can’t help the wide smile spreading across his face nor the blatant awe he can hear colouring his tone, “That was nothing short of a miracle.”

“You’ve changed my life in every possible way, you challenged me to take control of my life, took my greatest fears and transformed them into something I treasure above anything else. I’ve never felt more at peace than I do falling asleep next to you every night – even if you are an unapologetic blanket hog.”

He pauses, both for effect and to let Magnus finish spluttering at the unexpected teasing. Making sure Magnus is looking at him again, he gazes steadily into his fiancé’s eyes as he continues.

“You’re my one great love, Magnus Bane. I can feel it written in my _bones_. And I will cherish you with every second that makes up my future and every atom that makes up my body.”

The words tear a soft gasp from Magnus.

He looks undone. His chest is rising and falling irregularly, each exhale catching slightly in his throat and making him shudder. His lips are parted as he looks at Alec with unbridled wonder, before he shakes himself and seems to remember that it’s his turn to speak now.

“For someone who’s not supposed to be good with words that was one hell of a speech, Alexander,” he declares a little shakily, chuckling wetly. He’s clearly trying to be subtle as he blinks away the moisture threatening to spill over onto his cheeks, but he still has to take a second to compose himself before he can say anything else.  

“When you’re as old as I am, new experiences are something of a rarity.”

It’s something they’ve talked about before, the worrying tendency of warlocks to stagnate as the years drag by, to get set firm in their ways and refuse to stray away from the familiar. How Magnus has spent decades as a connoisseur of exciting new experiences, desperately trying to outrun the clock and still finding himself becoming gradually jaded.

“But being with you, everything feels new.” Magnus’ eyes are bright with wonder, as though he can hardly believe it even as he continues, “The world itself is the same, but the way I look at it has changed, _I’ve changed_ , I’m seeing these things that once seemed so dulled by time in a new light. Everything’s brighter – all the good, beautiful things dialled up, and ugly parts of the world fading away for a while – all because of you.”

There’s pressure building behind Alec’s eyes, mounting with the overwhelming _emotion_ surging through him at the idea that he could possibly have changed Magnus’ life for the better in the same way Magnus changed his. It’s not the first time Magnus has said things along those lines, but in this moment, with Magnus baring his heart and staring into Alec’s eyes with burning sincerity, Alec thinks he might actually be able to believe it.

“This,” Magnus says, gesturing between them with their joined hands, “Was never something I anticipated. It’s terrifying, honestly, because surprise is not an emotion I’ve been familiar with in a long time. But you’ve always been able to sneak past my walls without even trying; I’ve never had a defence that could keep you at bay.”

“Loving you makes me want to dive headfirst into the unknown as long as you’re by my side. And Alexander, I will never stop loving you for as long as I live.”

That’s what does it. The dam breaks, and Alec can feel tears sliding down his cheeks, breath stuttering as he stifles a loud inhale that teeters on the edge of becoming a sob.

Somehow the ring is grasped in his hand, presumably pressed there by Izzy or Jace during the few seconds that Alec’s brain had ceased to function in the aftermath of Magnus’ earth-shattering declaration. Magnus is holding its pair, free hand swiping a few stray tears from under his eye (careful not to disturb his eyeliner) before reaching out to cradle Alec’s. Someone’s trembling as Magnus slides the ring onto Alec’s finger, but Alec can’t tell who it is. Most likely, it’s both of them. Without preamble he reaches for Magnus in turn, guiding the ring along his slender fingers.

The moment stretches out and Alec is aware only of the indescribable relief coursing through him at the sight of the silver band finally sitting in its rightful place on Magnus’ left hand, combined with comforting weight of the ring resting on his own, and Brother Zachariah’s words, “I now pronounce you one,” reverberating through him.

Finally, Magnus tugs him close, not bothering to wait for prompting, and Alec falls into him. Magnus captures his lips and it feels both shockingly new and perfectly familiar all at once. Alec gasps when he feels the cool metal of the ring, not yet fully warmed by Magnus’ body heat, as Magnus’ hand reaches up to cup his jaw, thumb caressing along Alec’s cheekbone. Pressing impossibly closer, Magnus swallows the sound, tilting Alec’s head a little so he can deepen the kiss. Alec obliges, a desperate edge to the way he pulls Magnus’ lower lip between his teeth and slides his hand up Magnus’ arm to grip his bicep.

Muffled by the rushing in his ears, Alec hears Jace wolfwhistle behind him. He feels Magnus’ lips curve up in an involuntary smirk and Alec doesn’t so much as react to his parabatai’s antics except to tighten his grip on Magnus’ arm, savouring the feel of his fiancé against him. By the angel, his _husband_.

They break apart after a few moments more, breathing heavily. Alec’s eyelids flutter open and he’s met by the sight of Magnus’ real eyes, unglamoured, an intimate sight for him alone. Forehead pressed against Magnus’, Alec is close enough to see the darker gold radiating from his dilated pupils and be enthralled by the way the champagne flecks at the edge of his irises catch the light. Pulling back slightly, Alec can hear the shuffling of people starting to get to their feet, migrating to the edges of the clearing to mingle. Or to gossip, would probably be more accurate, if downworlders are anywhere near as bad as shadowhunters are.

He is just stepping away, half a mind to tug Magnus away to a more private location for a few minutes, when gentle music starts to play, whispering through the branches and filling the air with a soft melody. An expectant hush falls.

“You better not think you’re getting out of dancing with me,” Magnus murmurs in Alec’s ear, pressing up against his side as he leans in.

Alec chuckles deep in his throat, putting up a token resistance even as Magnus’ hand on the small of his back guides them both forwards, towards the centre of the glade which is now miraculously clear of chairs.

“You sure you’re up for that?” Alec teases, “I distinctly remember you complaining non-stop about your poor bruised feet after Havana.”

He’s been practicing with Izzy (and, on one memorable occasion, Jace) for weeks. But Magnus doesn’t need to know that.

Magnus feigns indignance, pulling back a little so Alec can see his face properly when he raises his eyebrows and faux-pouts. The effect is significantly lessened by the tenderness Alec can see sparkling in his eyes and the soft upturn of his lips.

“No amount of bruising – or number of left feet for that matter – would be enough to make me miss out on our first dance as husbands.”

“Okay,” Alec breathes, spinning Magnus in to face him and dropping a hand to grip his waist, relishing the look of shocked delight that overtakes Magnus’ face, “Let’s dance, husband.”

**Author's Note:**

> Sunflowers also symbolise immortality in some cultures, so make of that what you will :)
> 
> Come and yell with me on tumblr (@icanthelpbut-love-you)


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